Quickie 1

Its been a while since i last excercised the more creative grey cells. What with all the setting up of a lab and the pretending to be a theorist.

So here goes. I am back to my short story writing. At one sitting, I must write, in 300 words or less, a story with a twist in the tale( or twist in the tail ). Thats the challenge. Quickies I call them.

This ones called "She Knew"


She Knew -

She is 49th in the queue at the bank. Soon her number will be called and she will leave her seat, go up to the counter, pick up her papers and leave. You have a small window of opportunity.

Number 40 is called out over the loudspeaker. You move in your seat with exaggerated gestures. hoping to catch her eye. She just sits there. Her eyes buried in her magazine. You cough a little. But she just squints at the page, perhaps she is reading the fine print . You smile, Just in case she looks your way. She doesnt.

number 43 now. 6 to go. You get up as if to stretch your legs, even think of going over and saying hello. but you sit down. She turns a page and just keeps on reading.

Number 46. You clear your throat, Loud enough that a few people turn and. If she turns you will smile apologetically. But she seems engrossed in the reading. You think perhaps you could ask her for a pen. No. That might be obvious. She seems to you, the prettiest woman in the room and there are four people closer by.

Then her number is called out. She drops her magazine, Goes to the counter, takes her papers and leaves. You watch her leave , then you pick up the magazine she was reading. It is The software guide to the banks accounting system'.

You realize.

She knew!

nuff zed!

My favourite thing that starts with GR

I overheard a conversation on the train. And, seeing as I had just finished reading my book, with 3 stops to go,I was all ears.

A young man called his wife, and said with obvious glee :"I've bought you your favourite thing in the whole wide world! Guess!"

Apparently, the wife, suffering from amnesia perhaps, was at a loss to guess her favourite thing.

he said no, twice, politely, before he figured out she could use a hint.

"it starts with a G"

she still couldnt guess

"G..R..." he goes on helpfully

Then , aparently, she guessed it.

And I have no idea what it was. But it was something fantastic, because he jumped up and down and cried out "yes yes thats it! Youre brilliant! I love you!". in the shrill pitch of a a man whose wife has just guessed what he has in a bag, as if by magic.

A poll ! what do you thing it is. I mean "grapes" spring to mind, though grapes, while clearly awesome are hard pressed in the role of favourite thing in the whole world

groceries? was he being tongue in cheek? green peas?

I wondered.

I am therefore I think

I sometimes get the impression that my brain has a mind of its own.

I mean, thoughts pop in to my head and I don't know where they come from. I can never remember the actual instant I fell asleep.(I tried to watch myself fall asleep for a month. I stopped because it had weird consequences, I began to dream I was awake and at least once missed a lecture I had to give because I thought I was actually giving it when I was, in fact, in bed, asleep)

But getting back to the point. My brain has a mind of its own. And so does yours. And What is more I have proof. I just finished reading a Vilanayur Ramachandrans book on neuroscience
for those not in the know, Vilanayur is one of India's greatest minds and has used his unique insight into the workings of the mind to find cures for at least two brain damage related disorders. and is one of the top 100 living intellectuals

Vilanayurs book, details a fascinating experiment. where he sits a person down in a dark room and tells him to press a button during the next minute whenever he feels like it. without any preconceived time, the person has to just press the button when the thought pops into his head. While doing this his neural patterns are being monitored and a few seconds before he thinks his thought( and presses the button) The researcher can predict its coming.

Did that sink in? The researcher knows what you re going to think before you think it. In fact the "subconscious", a fancy word for the strange parts of the brain you aren't aware of, decided for you a long time ( a few whole seconds) before you became aware of the decision.

To quote Ramachandran, perhaps badly, ' the conscious experience is just a post facto explanation imposed by the brain on a subconscious mechanism'

In other words, your subconscious thinks, then your conscious mind(the 'person' you refer to as "you") is told what has happened. And all along even a neuroscientist can tell you before hand whats going to happen.

we are robots programmed to think we can think. What is more there are good reasons to believe that this has an evolutionary advantage. conscious beings, who think they are in control, have more reason to survive. With consciousness , perhaps, comes a stronger survival instinct and the ability to plan for the future.

Is that cool or is that cool? actually its a little scary. It means I am not me, my subconcious is me, I am just...wait a minute...what am I

The lady of perpetual motion has just taken another step and what a step it is

whats in a name

I have recently became a John updike fan. I discovered his work when I found, that he had written a poem about my surname.

First a short aside: My surname has often been the cause of much mirth. My english teacher in the 8th standard once told a story to our class of how arjun once met james bond. The conversation went as follows

Bond : The names Bond , James bond

Arjun : the names Narayananan, AnanthaNaryaanan, Subramaniam AnanthaNarayanan, Arjun Subramaniam Ananthanarayanan.

in my defense she on the school roles my name has always been the much simpler "arjun narayanan"

Apparently, another unfortunate soul, who fell victim to the dreaded south indian naming dyslexia , a certain M. Ananthanarayanan, wrote a book called 'the silver pilgrimage', back in 1932. The Times ran a review and it caught John Updikes eye. He was so moved by it that he put pen to paper and came up with this.

    "I Missed His Book, But I Read His Name" by
Updike, John (1932-)


Though authors are a dreadful clan
To be avoided if you can,
I'd like to meet the Indian,
M. Anantanarayanan.
I picture him as short and tan.
We'd meet, perhaps, in Hindustan.
I'd say, with admirable elan ,
"Ah, Anantanarayanan --
I've heard of you.  The  Times  once ran
A notice on your novel, an
Unusual tale of God and Man."
And Anantanarayanan
Would seat me on a lush divan
And read his name -- that sumptuous span
Of "a's" and "n's" more lovely than
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan" --
Aloud to me all day.  I plan
Henceforth to be an ardent fan
of Anantanarayanan --
M . Anantanarayanan.